


By my side in the shadows

by EnlacingLines



Series: ShuAke week 2020 [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Attends Shujin Academy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Nightmares, background MakoHaru, shujin goro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: It seems strange that the universe would curse people with the possibility of meeting a soulmate through nightmares. For most, it’s by way of dreams or some kind of connection during slumber, but fate has always liked to make a mockery of Akira, and thus gives him the reverse.His mind recognises his soulmate through shared bad dreams. And they’re not just bad, they’re terrifying.Written for ShuAke week prompts: soulmates + nightmares
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuAke week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018378
Comments: 50
Kudos: 333





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't resist a soulmate AU. It's a problem. This ended up way larger than I thought it would be, so it's been split into 2 parts. 
> 
> Thank you to my lovely MxTicketyBoo for beating this beast of a fic. You are the best. 
> 
> Enjoy reading!

Akira doesn't really notice the first time it happens. He must be about six, awakens one morning shivering and uneasy, a feeling which hangs over his head, his own personal rain cloud that marks his every turn. 

It’s not his parents that notice. He should have seen the signs, can do so years later, as even then the simplest of moments skirt by them. It’s a teacher, one who wonders why the child who is usually so attentive and surrounded by others says nothing all day. 

“I had a bad dream,” he says, because dreams are bad and good, the same as days and flavours of ice cream. 

But this teacher listens, a rarity in his life. “How bad?” she asks, bending down to sit before him on the carpet. 

“Very bad,” he says, and because of that, she tells him about soulmates. 

It seems strange that the universe would curse people with the possibility of meeting a soulmate through nightmares. For most, it’s by way of dreams or some kind of connection during slumber, but fate has always liked to make a mockery of Akira, and thus gives him the reverse. 

His mind recognises his soulmate through shared bad dreams. And they’re not just bad, they’re terrifying. 

He runs home and refuses to sleep, his parents angry the school even suggested such a thing, probably as a child who refused to sleep interfered far too much with their own existence. But they take him to a doctor soon after that, and it’s confirmed he is one of the few with such a power. 

Soulmates aren’t even guaranteed; in fact Akira is more likely to not have one than to be able to do this. The doctor even tells him he’s lucky, which means absolutely nothing when his parents are annoyed and his mind is still filled with shadows. 

It turns out, that actually it’s a lot less scary than he images for the first few years. Akira tends not to remember what exactly happens in these nightmares. There’s the occasional screaming, waking up in tears, but his parents discover after consultation this is normal for children, and are therefore no longer worried. They signed up for normal, this they can cope with. 

Akira feels a lot though. Feels like his heart is wrenched from his chest, everything somewhat dimmer, somewhat heavier the day after he connects with his soulmate. He doesn’t really have an outlet for that. He can’t stick a colourful band-aid over a nightmare, can’t share his toys with his soulmate to make them smile, and those are the only ways he knows to cope with sadness. 

It takes a while, but he’s nine when the first true night of terror occurs. Akira is acutely aware he’s dreaming when his eyes open, and he sits up fully from where he is on the ground. It’s cold, and he shivers, looking around at the grey space, which swirls with ice like fog from rainy days. He looks around, but he can’t see much, so gets up, clutching himself tightly. 

He walks, not that he can really see his own body to know that’s what he’s doing, everything unreal and faded without actual substance. But as he travels through, he hears crying. Akira’s heard a lot of crying; he’s on the baseball team and his friends have fallen over, got hit by stray balls and lost games enough that he has heard many people cry. But this isn’t like that. This is different. This is crying deep and tortured, so much that Akira’s own chest starts to ache. 

_ I need to find them _ , he thinks, perhaps even says, the absolute want to help with whatever is happening the sharpest emotion he’s ever felt.

And all at once, the mist clears. 

There, sitting with his back to him, is a person. There’s a wall in front of them, and they’re shadowed, the same grayscale as everything else that means he cannot really tell features. They look small, perhaps smaller than him, curled up and sobbing as if the world has truly ended. 

“Are you hurt?” 

Akira’s voice rings out, and the crying stops, an echo of a final gasp meeting his ears. The world stills and slowly, the figure on the floor turns, shadows forming around it as Akira’s heart speeds up. A dark face greets him, bright red eyes burning as the only features, and he’s screaming even before he wakes up in bed. 

It’s unnerving, keeps him from falling asleep for days, but it does teach him something: he can control the nightmares. 

Or perhaps not control, but influence them in some way. He’d wanted to find the...thing crying and he did, instantly. Was it his soulmate? Akira isn’t sure, it hadn’t looked enough like a person to be able to tell, and the way it stared at him isn’t something he likes to recall. 

But the fact he does seem to have some kind of power over that sleep-scape does help. As, once he starts getting older, he finds he has less and less control over everything else. Akira doesn’t really like school; it’s fine, and he does just better than average, but it’s tedious and unfair. The teachers have clear favourites, the other students form cliques that exclude and threaten others. 

Akira walks a strange line of being generally liked by everyone, but equally not truly having friends. He’s never picked last, but never first, never had a fight but never fans. Most of the time he stays quiet and unseen, feeling as if he’s not truly real, watching everyone live. 

His parents are hardly home, completely absorbed in their own lives, separate from him and it seems, one another. They check his grades, check his health but otherwise leave him alone. Nothing really bothers him, but nothing interests him either. Except for his soulmate. 

Akira does a lot of investigating as he turns into teenagehood, wondering if others have a similar story. He doesn’t find many references to the phenomenon he experiences, but does see that many people can also control their dreams, albeit in their cases to take their soulmate on elaborate dates and nice things. 

What they all have in common though, is they can never truly see their soulmate. There’s a story of a couple who were neighbours for five years, passing every day, greeting one another and not working out they were soulmates. It also seems that the bond is rather intrusive, so many people having encounters with them while in strange and occasionally personal dreams. 

Which is oddly, how Akira meets his soulmate properly for the first time. 

Again, he knows he’s dreaming. He’s at home, and his mother is cooking, his father reading the newspaper. A typical scene from any day. Except there’s blood running out of his mouth. At first, Akira tells himself it’s not real, but the blood keeps coming, building and pooling until his hands are covered in it. 

“Mum...mum!” he yells, but she keeps cooking, doesn’t move. 

“Mummy, mum it won’t stop!” he screams, although he hasn’t used that term for her in years, desperate to get help, only for her to move to the other side of the room as if she’d never heard. 

Akira stumbles over to his father. “Dad. Dad, I’m bleeding, it won’t stop, please,” he says, feeling himself tear up, but his father just turns the page of the newspaper. 

“Oh, so your dad is shit too.” 

Akira turns, hiccupping as blood pours from between his hands where he’s clasped them over his mouth. Across the room, sitting at the table is a boy. He’s wearing a mask, huge and red with a pointed nose, and tips his head a little to see Akira through it properly. He has on an oversized outfit that looks like a costume and is...weird in the setting, and Akira wonders what he must look like in return. 

“No, he’s not...shit,” Akira says, stumbling a little over the swear. 

“You’re dying and they don’t care,” the boy says, with little inflection, and Akira feels anger rise. 

“They do care, this isn’t real,” he says, crossing his arms and hoping that if he wishes this true, he’ll stop worrying over it while he sleeps. 

The other boy says nothing, and Akira realises he’s stopped bleeding. He swallows, removing his hands and slowly walks forward. 

“You’re my soulmate,” he says, curiosity outweighing the fear as he draws close. 

The other boy scoffs. “That’s why I’m here. Can you wake up now? I want to go home,” he says, except the last part doesn’t sound so sure. 

Close up, Akira can see he’s wearing a sort of uniform, white with lots of red and gold, but slightly ill fitting. It looks nice though, colourful and important, like a prince in a cartoon. Akira hopes he looks as cool in his soulmate’s own mind. 

“You don’t like your dad?” he asks, going back to the old train of thought and joining his soulmate in sitting at the table. 

He looks at Akira, eyes that brilliant red through the mask, almost matching in tone. It had been him then who was crying in that first trip of nightmares, and it makes Akira drag his chair closer. 

His soulmate looks down at the table, that bravado from before gone, and Akira waits for him to talk. 

“I hate my dad,” he says, soft but blade sharp, and Akira shivers. 

“Then...why do you want to go home?” he asks. 

“Oh, I don’t live with my dad. But that doesn’t mean I want to be stuck with your terrible parents either,” he says, looking around at the scene which has not changed. 

“They’re not terrible, just busy,” Akira says, rehearsed and practiced as to why his parents miss many things in his life. 

The other boy gives him a look but doesn’t comment, both of them letting the lie sit between them. Akira doesn’t really know what to do now; he has so many questions and yet none seem quite right, and it seems his soulmate feels the same as the silence continues. 

Suddenly, his throat itches, and he inhales shakily, but not enough to stop himself cough, heaving onto the table, stomach in agony as he vomits up blood. He remembers now, what this is like; that time he had food poisoning, was convinced he was dying, and his parents didn’t even notice until they saw the stains on the bathroom the next day. 

He sobs once, as the other boy scrambles down, running to his side. 

“This isn’t real, come on, wake up,” he says, sounding urgent, and Akira’s head hurts. 

“Why do...they never see?” he asks, staring at red red eyes, which widen but do not give answers, the last glow of colour Akira sees before everything fades into the mists. 

After that, he seems rather pathetic. No one really knows what it’s like at home, and he feels like an idiot for having it seep into his nightmares, baring all for his soulmate. He doesn’t even have a bad life; he has clothes, food, a computer and never truly wants for anything. He knows others with worse life situations and shouldn’t be complaining when he’s so lucky. 

Yet it hurts, and he cannot change that feeling. He tries a variety of methods to gain his parents' approval, or even interest. Different clubs, different books, movies, life goals; none of them gain any more than a few fleeting comments before he dissolves into the background of their lives once more. 

He doesn’t have long before he gets to meet his soulmate again. A few months pass this time and he awakens in the dark, but knows he is somewhere other than reality. It’s just as shadowy as ever, but with a faint red light to it, highlighting that Akira is in a very small, very dark space. 

A bang sounds and he jumps, spinning to the left and facing one side of the space, blocked off in the same way as the others. Another boom sounds, as if someone is attempting to ram their way inside, and Akira steps back, steadying himself. He ignores the sound, which carries on at various intervals, and instead turns to see the rest of the area. He’s almost certain this is not his nightmare, so frantically begins peering through the gloom to find his soulmate. 

Despite the small space, it takes him a few sweeps before he locates him, hunches up in a corner, and Akira jogs over as the pounding sound marks his steps. As he does, the red masks tips up again, his body flinching away momentarily before he relaxes. 

“It’s just you, great. Get lost,” he says, and Akira grimaces, sitting down in front of him. 

“I can’t really control this you know. Or at least, not as much as I want to,” he says, and the boy laughs, bitter and painful. 

“You would manage to come at one of the worst points though,” he says, and the next bang is louder, making them both jump. 

Akira swallows. He’s not an idiot, but it breaks his heart to experience this. “Did they lock you in here or did you hide?” he asks. 

His soulmate doesn’t seem surprised he worked it out. “A bit of both, depending on the day. I think this one is when those fuckers locked me in the garden shed. The door was metal, it echoed like this,” he says, hissing a little at what Akira can now tell is shoes kicked hard on metal. 

“Who are they?” Akira says, loudly over the din as the gaps between them become shorter. 

“Other kids in the home. I don’t live in this one anymore, but-” he’s cut off as the kicks become endless the room almost shaking with it. 

Akira can see the boy in front of him shaking, eyes darting around as if waiting for the walls to collapse. He’s not sure how this ended in reality, but Akira really doesn’t want to find out, and on impulse reaches out and covers his soulmate’s ears. 

Their eyes meet. Akira hopes he’s being comforting and not overstepping, so brushes his thumbs across the boy’s neck in a way he hopes is soothing. He can’t see he has much experience of helping calm someone like this, but he remembers the way he’d been distracted in his own nightmare enough to stop the bleeding. He smiles, suddenly feeling a little awkward, but as soon as he does, the noise stops. Akira’s eyes widen and his smile grows, a warm feeling settling in his chest that he’d been able to calm his soulmate. 

Slowly he lowers his hands, and settles back down. His soulmate looks at him once, then sits up a bit, straightening up against the wall. 

“Thank you,” he says, quiet and different than any other tone Akira’s heard from him. 

Akira nods, still smiling, and they settle into silence once again until Akira fidgets and sighs. 

“What’s your name?” he says finally, wanting to at least call him something since they are fated to wind up in each other’s minds. 

“Crow,” the other says, then blinks as if he hadn’t actually tried to say that. Akira frowns, but Crow shakes his head and leans forward. 

“And you?” he says. 

“Joker,” Akira replies, then feels his mouth fall open, seeing as that’s not what he’d tried to say. 

Crow laughs softly. “I suppose we can’t use real names here,” he says, moving to sit with his legs crossed in front of Akira, their knees touching like they’re so much younger than they are. 

“Makes it hard to work out how to meet you,” Akira says, and Crow scoffs. 

“Would you really want to? You can see into my nightmares, why would you want to meet me in reality?” he says. 

“Why would I not?” Akira asks, a genuine question. Sure, he doesn’t know Crow well, but Crow’s seen more of him than anyone else, and in his own way been an anchor, even if each meeting is slightly terrifying. 

Crow clearly doesn’t know what to do with that admittance though, and Akira feels a little silly for admitting it. 

“I mean, you’ve seen my nightmares too, which are worse. I coughed up blood over you,” he says. 

“Near me, not over me. And mine are worse, look around you,” he says, gesturing up at the extremely small space. 

“It’s not that bad,” Akira counters, and Crow leans forward, clearly about to argue, when an almighty slam starts up again. 

They both yell and reach for one another, hands gripping so swiftly Akira cannot tell who reached out first. The noise builds until light shatters through the space, and Akira screams as he wakes up in bed, one hand held to his heart. 

He groans, flopping back down onto his pillows. While he’d been trying to get a rise out of Crow at the time, he’s not sure now which of their nightmares had been worse. It worries him though, whatever’s been happening to his soulmate. His response to this nightmare would indicate he was or is in a children’s home, which would mean he’s an orphan. Akira curls on his side, the hand he’d reached out for Crow spread before him. 

He has to find a way to connect with his soulmate. He just has to. 

* * *

Despite Akira’s motivation, it’s hard to get to know someone in flashes of bad dreams where they can’t have normal conversations. They’ve both tried saying where they live, their schools and their names again but nothing works. Plus, each time they meet, it’s always in a situation they want to retreat from. 

There’s a dream from Akira of being covered in thin strips of coloured paper, where people walk past and take one, each time they do his body fading from existence. Crow ends up pushing each one out of the way, and telling Akira with a fond but loud voice to pick up everything he dropped, swirling paper all around. There’s one from Crow of a series of shadow figures laughing maniacally in a circle, that Akira had ended by grabbing his hand and running through them to an escape. 

Then, there were a few normal nightmares which neither could work out who they belonged to. Taking exams and failing, all their teeth dropping out, creepy things from movies they’d both seen. Those were the easiest, and the ones where they could learn slightly more about one another. 

Crow is, as he assumed, an orphan, and his mother had died when he was very little, Akira sure the first nightmare occurred in the aftermath. His father he only knows the name of, and Akira has a feeling Crow fosters some deep seated need for retribution for how his mother’s life shaped out. 

He gets impressions more than serious facts. He feels Crow is as lonely as him but for different reasons, and possibly just as at a loss. He has more drive than Akira does, but there’s something unfocussed and teetering about it. There’s a tiredness that persists in all he does as they get older, and the more they strive through nightmares together, the closer Crow walks to him. A closeness, or a want for such that Akira understands although he cannot put into words. 

Then, when Akira is sixteen, comes the night that changes everything. 

He’s surprised how long it takes to have a nightmare, seeing as his brain is probably too stressed and anxious to fall asleep in the weeks leading up to his court date. Of course Akira has the worst luck in the world and would manage to trip a drunk local politician, with enough clout in their sleepy town to cause problems, but not enough to cause true, permanent damage. Akira is sure, should his influence have been greater, he’d be spending his time in juvenile detention, so being sent away with an infraction on his record should be seen as a relief. 

Which of course it is not. His parents, for the first time ever in his life, finally snap to attention and decide to pull out the list of reasons why Akira is not good enough, sending him to live with a person they’ve never mentioned before, and attend a school where he knows no one, where he’s certain his reputation will precede him. 

It’s not prison, but it’s a different kind of trap, all at the whims of an adult who had a little too much power and the need to hide their own indiscretions. Akira is angry and hurt, at the people in his life who didn’t support him, at the world for letting this happen, at himself for trying to help a stranger when he should have just called for help.

So when he wakes up in the dream world the night before travelling to his new home in a prison cell, he’s not that surprised. 

If he were feeling less hopeless, he’d almost be impressed at his own imagination. The bed he sits up on is as hard as rock, bars thick and cold, the space so small a fog rolls in from the room beyond, shaded in deep blue, figures curling and twisting without true form. 

“Joker!” 

He hears Crow calling, distance and echoing, but he doesn’t bother answering. He’s got a criminal record, been rejected by his parents and sent miles away to the city. Who would want to associate with him? 

“Joker! Jo- fuck, there you are,” Crow says, and suddenly there’s a pair of white gloves stark against the bars. 

Akira can’t look at him though, can’t bear it for the first few minutes. But Crow doesn’t leave, doesn’t say anything as the shadows curl and the room grows colder. He shivers once, then looks up, sees his soulmate sitting on the ground, still gripping on the bars, looking for the first time, truly afraid. 

“Joker, what is this?” he asks, and despite himself, Akira shuffles forward a little. 

“What does it look like?” he says, and Crow’s eyes narrow behind the mask, but for once he doesn’t let his anger unleash. Instead he stays quiet, uncharacteristic and focuses on Akira for once to be the one to lead the conversation. 

“I don’t know...how to get out,” he says, the only way to express exactly what’s been running through his mind the past few days. 

“You fight,” Crow says without pause, making Akira smile even as his heart drops. 

“Can’t fight someone who used their power to fuck up my life,” he says, and Crow’s hands grip the bars tighter, pulling him closer. 

“Yes, you can. And we will. Fuck all of them and their abuse of power, the way they control us, we’ll get them,” he says, and part of Akira’s own concerns slip away at the unsaid. 

He feels kinship with those words, but part of the tone concerns him. Akira’s not bent on revenge, he just wants to make sure this doesn’t happen again; and try and piece together his own life in a way that means this won’t ruin his whole life from now on. 

The prospect makes his chest tight, even in this dream world. 

“Joker, snap out of it, now’s not the time to give up!” Crow says, and Akira blinks, for a second the shadows thicken, and that is what gets him driving forward, gripping the bars and covering Crow’s hands with his own. 

Akira swallows, heart pounding. “Okay. But...it seems pretty impossible, where I am,” he says, the momentary concern gone as Crow’s form remains solid and bright. 

Crow smiles. “It always does. But...you’ve faced so many nightmares already. And you’re still here,” he says. 

“We’re still here,” he adds, and Crow laughs. 

“I am somewhat intrigued by my soulmate being a criminal,” he says, and although the sentiment from anyone else would make Akira bristle, it doesn’t from him. 

“Why, do you like it?” he adds, not really thinking, and is rewarded with a strangled choked sound that makes Akira’s mind spin.

He hasn’t thought in depth of what they’re relationship might be. He’s drawn to Crow, wants desperately to find him, but they spend more of their time working through and often physically battle nightmares side by side. It gives little time to ponder much else. But he knows those eyes burn in his dreams, thinks of that biting wit, that challenge, and it does spark a fuse within. 

“I’m not actually a criminal,” he adds, thinking he should probably confirm that. 

“I know. You’re not the type, no matter what they make you out to be,” Crow says, and Akira should be ashamed at how much his chest lightens at hearing that one person in his life doesn’t think he’s the delinquent everyone says he is. 

The bars though, do not fade, and the cold continues, Akira shivering as the world seems to dim. Unconsciously, their hands move, Akira unsure if it’s he or Crow who fixes it so their fingers are slotted against each other’s through the bars. 

“Just...hold on. Keep fighting,” Crow’s voice says, urgent and a little afraid as the cold overtakes his limbs and Akira falls down. 

He opens his eyes to his own room, the previous safe haven barren and empty looking, his belongings packed away already. The house feels cold, the spring air still not quite giving into warmth. Akira rolls over and buries his head in his pillow, trying to calm himself. 

There is one person who cares. One person who believes him. And it happens to be the most important person too. So maybe, he can get through this. 

* * *

Akira isn’t sure he can do this. Sojiro is...fine. Mostly a little wary of Akira, and the attic space he lives in is comfortable if a little on the dusty side. He’s met Futaba, Sojiro’s adopted daughter, once and she fled soon after. Not the best introduction, but it’s fine. Sojiro mentioned teaching him to help in Leblanc and it makes him feel useful, and after just over a month of being here, the emotional need for that was probably a little strong. Sojiro gave him an odd look when he teared up, anyway. 

His parents decided to send him in advance of the school term starting, so Akira became familiar enough with the area in the month that passed. But it’s nearing the end of his first week of school, and it’s absolute hell. 

Everyone knows who he is, and rumours of ridiculous crimes he didn’t commit circulate. Class is awkward, his homeroom teacher seems exhausted by his presence, and he doesn’t have any of the right books for the classes. Most of the students give him a wide berth, which means so far he’s not asked anyone for help. 

By Thursday, Akira’s wondering if he should even bother coming in tomorrow, quickly marching out of the building while most of the students head to their after school activities. He’s crossing the ground when a startled cry catches his attention. He turns to see a girl just about to drop what looks like a bag of soil, and without thinking, dashes forward and catches it. 

“O-oh! Oh my goodness, thank you, I’m so sorry,” she says, and then blinks when she meets his gaze. 

He can tell by her uniform she’s a third year, and he gives her a small smile before slowly depositing the soil on the ground. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Do you need help?” he asks. 

She looks a little surprised, and Akira is braced for the inevitable rejection when her face relaxes in relief. 

“If you don’t mind, that would be so helpful. I overestimated myself. And they err, need to go to the roof,” she says. 

Akira hoists the bag over his shoulder, the girl’s eyes widening. “Sorry, I don’t know where the roof is,” he says, and she quickly leads the way through the school, Akira thankful the corridors are now empty. 

He’s surprised to find the school roof has a small garden; Shujin doesn’t strike him as a place open to having such things, but he dutifully unloads the soil where the girl asks. 

“Thank you so much. Oh, I’m Haru Okumara, president of the gardening club. You must be the new student in the second year,” she says. 

Akira nods once, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Akira Kurursu,” he says. 

“Nice to meet you. How are you finding school so far?” she says. 

Akira really should lie, but it’s been a brutal few days and some of his composure cracks. It must show on his face, for her look turns concerned, and he scrambles for an answer. 

“It’s fine, I’m just missing a few books. Trying to catch up,” he says, and she frowns. 

“Who's your homeroom teacher? Oh! You’re in Ann’s class, I’ll ask her to help you out. She won’t mind, she spent last semester abroad, she knows what it’s like coming back and feeling lost,” she says, quickly pulling out her phone. 

Somehow, by the time he gets home, Haru has arranged for him to meet someone called Ann in front of the library before school, and thinks he’s joined the gardening club. He’s a little wary it may be a dream, but as he enters the school the next day, a girl with blonde hair he vaguely recognises from class waves to him. 

“Hi, you’re Kurusu, right? You sit in front of me, I’m so sorry I didn’t realise you didn’t have the books, we could have shared,” she says. 

Akira nods, a little amazed by how friendly she is considering the reception he’s had so far, when a boy he hadn’t noticed slides up next to her. 

“Ahh, man, you should hear the rumours about you in my class. Someone said you’re an escaped serial killer,” he says, laughing, and Akira’s anxiety spikes, only Ann elbows him hard in the ribs. 

“Shut up, Ryuji. Seriously, don't worry about rumours. People here are idiots, we’ve had enough about us,” she says, rolling her eyes, as Ryuji regains himself and stands. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. Gossip is a thing here, they’ll lose interest once something more interesting happens,” he says as Ann opens the library doors. 

“Akechi’s addressing assembly today. That will help,” she says, and Akira is too overwhelmed to ask many questions as the two seem to immediately adopt him into their little group. 

He notices as they make their way to assembly, Akira now with the right text books for his classes, that he seems to get less stares his way when accompanied by the other two. Ann waves at a few girls in their class, while Ryuji starts peppering him with questions. 

“Did Haru get you to join the gardening club? It’s actually fun, and better than most of the other clubs. I used to be on the track team before I got injured, and Ann works so it’s nice to have a casual club. Haru does get kinda mad though…” he says, and Akira just loses himself in the words, amazed at how much things have changed so swiftly. 

They file in and there’s a strange energy to the room that Akira didn’t notice on Monday, and Ryuji groans. 

“It’s been a week, is everyone gonna get like this when Akechi speaks? He’s not that hot,” he mutters. 

Ann laughs. “You’re in the minority there. I get it, even if I don’t feel it,” she says with a shrug. 

“What’s going on?” Akira asks, and Ann grins. 

“The student council Vice President is speaking today. Makoto, she’s the president, makes him do it because firstly he hates it and it’s kind of funny, and secondly the entire school thinks he’s cute so they actually do as he says,” she replies. 

“Except you two,” Akira says and they both grin. 

“I am immune to men, no matter how cute. But he seriously is cute, Ryuji’s just jealous,” she adds. 

Ryuji looks two seconds away from protesting extremely loudly, but thankfully the principal shuffles onstage, preventing the imminent explosion. Akira dutifully listens to the day’s announcements, until the principal leaves the stage, and a third year takes his place. 

This must be Akechi, and Akira immediately understands. 

He is extremely attractive. He smiles, and there seems to be a collective sigh from the audience, although to Akira it seems like the sort of smile he’s practiced in front of the mirror, no smile is that even. His hair just hits his shoulders in an uneven cut, and he carefully tucks one piece behind his ear with a gloved hand, and Akira has to swallow hard. 

The whole audience is enraptured, and at least for Akira, it is not just how he looks. His voice hums through him, his presence is clearly cultivated to public speaking, and there’s just something about him which keeps Akira gazing and listening. 

“Would you like to sign up to the fanclub?” Ann whispers as Akechi steps off stage, and he gives her a look which makes her laugh. 

“Urg, he’s so smug. Annoying, how are you friends with him?” Ryuji mutters, and Ann rolls her eyes. 

“He’s not that bad. Well, okay he is kind of an asshole, but he’s not awful. Anyway, we should go to class,” she says, and Ryuji waves them goodbye, shuffling off to his own lessons. 

With Ann and Ryuji, the day is much easier. Even from this short time, he can tell they’re sort of misfits in their own way, a little apart from everyone else. They’re pretty open about it, both missing school for different reasons in their first year, and seemingly banding together with Haru and Makoto to make a group of friends out of those who don’t really fit in with others. 

It seems too good to be true in a way, but they’re kind and Akira is thankful for it, both of them clearly used to bickering and talking enough that he can stay relatively quiet. It gives him hope perhaps that this might get easier, or at least just a little better than the bleakness of the past few days. 

“I actually need to go to the student council today, they said I had to fill in some forms,” Akira recalls as they pack away their lunches. 

“Oh, yes of course, Makoto usually does that with transfer students. I’ll show you where it is,” Ann says, and walks him all the way to the door before waving and heading off. 

Akira watches her go, still a little bemused by the swiftness of all this, but resigns himself to knocking on the door and entering. The student council room is nothing too impressive, looks more like a storage room than anything, but the presence of Akechi sitting at the table in the centre of the room transforms it on instant. Akira suddenly wishes he’d smoothed down his hair before entering. 

“Ah yes, you must be Kurusu. Do come in,” he says, that same perfect pleasantness in his smile and manner as he gestures towards the chair opposite. 

Akira slides the door closed and oddly feels trapped, Akechi’s calm and professional manner making him feel more wary than the intent. But he sits down, keeps his face neutral as Akechi hands over a form and a pen, which Akira dutifully takes. 

It’s basic stuff, an account of his first week, and Akira thanks the universe again for Haru so he can actually state he’s joined the gardening club. He hopes that looks like he’s trying to fit in at least. 

“How are you enjoying Shujin so far?” Akechi asks, and Akira glances up before going back to the form. 

“Fine, thank you,” he says, not really sure what Akechi wants from a conversation. 

“I’m glad to hear it. The students here can be...tactless, let’s say,” he says. 

Akira pauses, looking up again and meeting Akechi’s eyes. They’re both frozen in their own unreadable expressions, although Akira’s heart sinks a little that the rumours have spread to the upperclassman. This school really must be desperate for gossip. Something about Akechi’s tone though makes Akira want to bite back. Perhaps he’s been buoyed by Ann and Ryuji’s acceptance, perhaps because he’s at his limit with falseness

“I suppose. They seem to be a fan of you though,” Akira says

Akechi blinks, and Akira gets the impression he wasn’t expecting that, which gives him a sliver of satisfaction he really shouldn’t have, but there is something nice about tipping this ridiculously hot guy off his carefully concocted pedestal. 

“Ah, well it comes with the territory,” he says, and Akira just about avoids rolling his eyes, mainly as the tone is so horribly saccharine he knows Akechi doesn’t feel that way. 

Instead, he slides over the completed forms, and Akechi nods, glancing over them. 

“Thank you, Kurusu. Good to see you participating in school clubs already. And if you do have any issues with your academic studies, you can always come to us,” he says. 

“Thanks, but I don’t have any concerns about my grades,” Akira says, standing as it’s actually true; mostly he’d been apathetic in his old school, but he genuinely knows how to set his mind to subjects. He won’t be leaving this school by failing classes. 

“Really? Well it’s good to hear you’re confident,” Akechi replies, and Akira decides the best way to deal with that is just to smile, then leaves the room before Akechi can say anything further. 

“How did it go?” Ann asks, as he files into class later. 

“Makoto wasn’t there, Akechi oversaw the forms,” he says. 

“Ah. So, fan club member?” she says. 

“Sign me up,” Akira replies, thinking of those slight cracks of Akechi’s armour which are far more interesting than they should be. 

* * *

Ann and Ryuji’s friendship turns out to be more genuine than Akira could have ever believed. Years of doubt has him initially cautious, but as the months pass, he settles into their company, learning to trust their offers at face value. They are a misfit group, the three of them plus Makoto and Haru, who despite being third years, are a constant presence in their lives, especially through the gardening club. 

Makoto Akira was originally wary of, but she turns out to be a lot more accepting and understanding than her demeanour accounts for. She deals with her own high expectations of herself, and Akira can understand that to an extent. 

Akira, despite his initial confidence, is a little behind in some classes just as the school curriculum is so widely different. Makoto volunteers to tutor him, and through that he learns not only how to broaden his horizons, but about her in general and once he does it’s easy to spend time with her. 

Which in turn, leads strangely onto Akira’s other new ‘friend.’

“I heard Akechi cursing your name this morning,” Makoto says as she sips the coffee he brought with him for their pre-school study meeting. 

“Exactly what time did you get here?” he says, and she groans. 

“Sometimes I think the teachers get us to do half their work. Anyway, what did you do this time?” she asks. 

Akira thinks, grinning to himself as Makoto’s eyes narrow. 

“It could be one of several things,” he explains and she shakes her head, looking fond if bemused. 

“I look forward to having to deal with him in a mood all day then. But let’s run through this once more, I think you’re almost there,” she says. 

He can’t explain how he and Akechi began this strange approximation of friendship, or rivalry, or possible hatred, Akira has no idea what it actually is. But it’s fun, different and almost addictive, so he doesn’t think he could stop even if he tried. 

And most importantly, he doesn’t want to.

It truly exploded though after his first set of exams. For some reason, Akechi’s insinuation that Akira might fail his classes caused him to end up to sidling up to him while he checked out his own exam results, and pointing out his scores. 

Akechi hummed, seeing the numbers. “Impressive, I must say. But my Politics score is higher,” he says. 

“We aren’t even in the same year, you can’t compare them,” Akira says. Then glances down at Akechi’s scores. “I did better at you in math, though,” he says. 

And it simply just...escalated. A sense of competition, of wanting to acknowledge one another bubbled forth, or at least that’s what it feels like to Akira. Grades comparisons, opinions on local politics, even one ill fated mixed volleyball class where they’d been the last two standing, there always seemed to be a way for them to compete. 

It’s late on a Tuesday afternoon when Akechi walks into Leblanc. Sojiro has continued to warm to him over time, initially teaching him about coffee, which moves onto allowing him to serve coffee, and eventually serve his own made coffee to actual paying customers. 

They mainly serve local regulars, although his friends have stopped by more than once, and Futaba has started to appear on occasion over the past few weeks. Akira likes her, can understand the complexities of trying to move in the world when your own mind tries to block every interaction, so while she tends not to appear when any of his friends stop by, she is a companion when the cafe is near empty. 

It’s Futaba who alerts him of Akechi, making a small squeak from behind him as the door opens. Akira looks up from the book and blinks at a similarly confused Akechi who stands in the doorway. 

Akira smiles. “You can come in, you know,” he says, and Futaba moves out towards the kitchen as Akechi does as requested. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Kurusu,” Akechi says, sitting down at the bar. 

“I live here. And work here. But it’s a bit out of the way for you,” he says, putting away his book under the counter. 

Akechi’s eyes flicker up to the menu behind Akira, and he waits for Akechi to choose his blend. 

“I’ll have whatever you recommend,” he says at last, and Akira hears Futaba snort from her place in the kitchen, but he doesn’t comment, just moves over to the beans. 

“And I found this place advertised online. A hidden gem, they said,” Akechi replies as Akira places the beans in the grinder. 

“That’s one way of describing it, sure. Not exactly a bustling area, but the coffee is good,” he says. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, I think,” Akechi says, and Akira rolls his eyes. 

“Do you always go looking for cafes in the middle of nowhere?” he asks as he grabs the kettle and starts pouring over the filter. 

To his surprise, Akechi is quiet for a moment. Akira focuses on pouring, but looks up once he’s done, seeing Akechi is staring at the counter, clearly not seeing it. 

“I like the quiet, sometimes,” he says, then shakes his head once before looking up. 

“Everyone needs quiet time,” Akira says, his tone coming out softer than intended, and Akechi’s mouth lifts, half a smile, off kilter and real in a way he never is at school. 

Akira passes over the coffee, along with sugar and cream, Akechi adding the latter only. Akira watches with satisfaction as he takes a sip, eyes widening slightly at the taste. 

“What’s the verdict?” Akira asks. He’s pretty confident in his own skills now, still miles away from anything Sojiro can produce, but Akira has been learning from the best. 

“Once again, you surprise me. This is good,” Akechi says, and Akira warms at approval from Akechi, more so than he probably should, but their back and forth is such that it’s nice to actually gain genuine praise for something outside of their competition. Even if it’s just coffee. 

While Akira cleans up, and checks quickly on Futaba, who gives him a thumbs up and seems perfectly happy on her laptop curled up on a stool in the kitchen, so he leaves her there. 

“Do you play?” Akechi asks suddenly, and Akira frowns, looking up to see him pointing to the chess set in the corner. 

“No. I’m not even sure it has all the pieces,” Akira says with a shrug, as Akechi gets up and inspects it. 

“In full working order. I can teach you, if you like?” he asks, and looks utterly delighted by the idea, which makes Akira know this is definitely a trap. He’s willing to bet Akechi is some sort of chess prodigy. 

“I’m working,” he says, and Akechi raises an eyebrow. 

“You were reading when I walked in,” he says, and Akira sighs, then nods, not caring he’s clearly a pushover and resigning himself to losing horribly. 

“Fine, but if customers come in, I need to stop. Let me make more coffee,” he says, refilling Akechi’s and making his own, committing to memory the gleam in his eyes when Akira agrees. 

Despite misgivings, Akechi is a good teacher. He’s not exactly what Akira would call patient, and he hams up a few mistakes just to see Akechi’s eyebrow twitch, but he’s concise and clear, and most importantly seems to genuinely want Akira to learn, which makes all the difference. 

By the time Akechi has to leave, Akira’s head is spinning from the rules and the promise of another match, so much so that he doesn’t notice Futaba come out of the kitchen until he almost walks into her. 

“Have fun?” she says, grinning maniacally. 

“I’m not sure,” Akira says, and she laughs. 

“He’s very pretty,” she comments, still smiling in a knowing way.

“I know,” Akira says with a defeated sigh. 

She pats him on the shoulder but otherwise leaves him to clear up the chess set, mentally reciting a few moves as he does. From then on, the chess games become a sort of standing ritual between them, Akechi turning up almost weekly, although not predictably enough given he seems to be so busy, and Akira learns he’s actually pretty decent at chess. 

All in all, things are going well. Except, of course, with his soulmate. 

Nothing in life can be perfect, so when Akira comes to awareness in what looks like a theatre, he knows this has to be a nightmare. He looks around, sitting up in his seat, the whole world as dark and gloomy as before. 

There’s a click, and the spotlight on the stage awakens, a bright beam which lands on Crow, sitting on a chair in the centre of the stage, head bent, staring at the floor. Akira inhales sharply, sitting up, but for some reason his body keeping him in his own place in the audience. He squints, and realises Crow appears to be chained to the chair, hands tied to the arm rests, making Akira shudder. 

_ You’re useless. Get out of here!  _

Akira turns to his left, and although the waves of smoke roll through, it seems to be forming figures, other audience members of ghoulish proximity, one of whom must belong to the voice. 

_ You’re not invited, I don’t want you to come _

Crow shudders at that, a small almost childish voice from the centre of the audience, near Akira and grits his teeth, trying to stand. He manages just to raise himself a little, legs straining, before flopping back down on the chair. 

_ Did you hear what his mother did? No wonder no one wants him. Bad luck to have a child like that. _

“What the hell?” Akira hisses as Crow’s head drops lower, and his own rage begins to spike. Who thinks that of a child? Akira may not know exactly what they’re referring to, but no child is bad luck. 

_ Wow, he’s so weird. Such an asshole too, I don’t know why all of them fawn over him. I’d hate to be in his class _

He manages to unstick himself a little more, but still cannot rise from the chair. This has never happened before. Whatever this dream is, it’s getting worse. Much like his own when trapped in that cell and Crow couldn’t find, it’s now becoming harder to locate one another. 

The nightmares are starting to win. 

“Too bad, I won’t let that happen,” Akira mutters. 

_ These grades aren’t good enough. Do better if you want to stay here. Either that, or I’ll send you away. What a waste you are, I shouldn’t have bothered finding you. _

Crow makes a sound at that voice, the tone and vileness echoing louder than all the rest. Akira’s hands clench and he bites his lip so hard he tastes blood as he needs to move; to run, to grasp and to rip those chains away, tear through those awful voices and-

He stands up, so quickly he almost pitches headfirst across the seat in front of him. It takes him a second to realise what he’s done, and then he’s racing through the auditorium and taking the steps two at a time until he skids painfully on his knees to reach Crow. 

Crow does nothing, no awareness that Akira is even there. Akira lifts his hands, touching the mask, but he just hangs there, with no response. Worry spikes; another thing that’s never happened before. 

_ Did you hear he killed someone? Can’t believe they let someone like him into the school _

Akira pauses, the knife in his gut twisting. That had to be directed at him, he’d heard the same sentence muttered behind his back on the first day of school. Yet this is Crow’s nightmare. They normally stand alone, the other dragging them out and helping them through, not combining to some sort of shared nightmare. Is it his position in the spotlight? Or are the rules changing? 

Either isn’t something Akira wants to deal with, so he focuses on the problem at hand. 

“Crow? Crow, it’s me Joker. Can you hear me?” he says, trying to lift his head, gain his attention. Nothing happens, and Akira ends up looking around the stage for some sort of aid, while his left hand slips into Crow’s hair, trying to be soothing even if he’s not sure Crow can feel him. 

There’s nothing around, just an empty stage, and Crow is still affixed to the chair. Akira leans forward, peering at the chains. They look sturdy, but there’s no lock in sight, nothing he can pick or try to pry loose. 

Reluctantly, he pulls his hand free, then reaches out, grasping the chains in his hands. He gives Crow’s wrists a little squeeze first, then without really knowing why he hooks his fingers under the loops and  _ pulls _ . 

Instantly, there’s a snap, and the chains dissolve into shards before melting into the air, piece by piece. Akira is knocked back, and Crow instantly looks up, gasping as if having been held underwater. Akira scrambles up, the sheer relief flooding through making him reach for Crow’s face, capturing either side of his mask in his hands, much like he’d been trying to do before. 

“Are you okay? I couldn’t wake you up,” he says, voice breaking as Crow just stares back at him, eyes widening, still panting. 

“T-that was you?” he asks, trembling and small, so unlike his usual rage filled voice that Akira’s throat thickens. He nods, and Crow manages a smile, Akira’s heart lifting to see it. 

Akira doesn’t want to let go, but it is a bit awkward, suddenly very aware he’s just holding onto Crow’s face. He drops his hands, then stands carefully, offering Crow his hand. Crow doesn’t hesitate, even though the aid is clearly unnecessary. Akira holds on possibly slightly longer than necessarily, before letting go and turning to look. 

“That was pretty intense,” he says, and Crow snorts. 

“You can say what you mean, out with it,” he says, brisk but not quite snappy. 

“Are those actual things people have said to you?” he says, and Crow nods, challenge in his eyes. 

Akira feels that anger rise, and he exhales slowly. “You’re not what they think of you,” he says. 

“And how would you know that?” Crow says, and there is some element of truth in that questioning, perhaps. How well do they really know each other when this is their only means of connection? 

But Akira knows the answer to his own musings. 

“I just do, because I know  _ you _ . I know your fears, what haunts you. And you know mine. I know bits about you, and I’ve also seen the worst parts of your life acted out in your own mind,” he says, as Crow’s mouth falls open slightly, eyes blinking behind the mask. 

Akira barrels on, as once he’s begun he seems unable to stop. “You’ve seen mine too, and then you fought for me. Saved me, really, a few times. So, I know you’re not what they say, whoever these people are,” he says, smiling at the truth in his own words. 

Crow looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information, he stands so still and frozen until he shakes his head, hair falling in front of his face. For a second, just a split second, it reminds Akira of someone, so clear and obvious it feels like a stab to the chest with his understanding and certainty, but it’s gone before he can catch it. 

“You really are something, Joker. The feeling is...mutual, you know. How have things been, I think it’s been a while since we last got stuck in one of these,” he says, gesturing around. 

The theatre is clearly empty now, the house lights having come on without Akira realising. He tips his head towards the exit, and Crow falls in step beside him as they make their way off the stage. 

“It’s better, I think. I actually made friends, in this new place,” he says, despite trying to give his real location. 

“Good. I’m especially glad you’re away from those trash excuses for parents,” Crow says, Akira doesn’t try and correct him. He’s pretty sure his opinion of his parents is nearer Crow’s now. 

As they meander slowly past where Akira had been sitting, he recalls why this dream is strange. 

“What’s the last thing you remember hearing?” he says, and Crow huffs. 

“My father,” he says, voice laced with disgust. 

That makes Akira’s steps falter. “You’ve met him? Or, wait, he said he found you,” Akira says, unable to forget any of the vile words if he tired. 

“Sadly. Doesn’t like to...have any loose ends. The circles he’s trying to run in wouldn’t approve of his bastard son being anything other than perfect,” he says, kicking a chair as he walks past. 

Akira slides up to him, elbows him once and grins. “I’m sure your grades are good, you’re definitely smart,” he says. 

“My math is apparently lacking,” Crow says, but he’s smiling too, and it almost pains Akira to change the conversation. But they’re almost at the door now, and he needs to make sure they discuss this. 

“When I stepped on stage, I heard a voice directed at me. It seems like the nightmares are changing. It was harder to reach you today,” he says. 

Crow reaches the door, then turns. “I’d found that last time. What does that mean?” he asks. 

Akira shrugs. “I don’t know. But I don’t like thinking it’s getting harder to find one another,” he says. 

“You are a romantic,” Crow teases, and Akira steps close before his mind can catch up on what he’s doing. 

“Maybe I am...soulmate,” he says, and Crow’s breath hitches, which he’s close enough to feel, and that sings through him, the rightness and goodness of having him so near, pressed almost against the door, leaning forward-

Something grabs him from behind, and Akira yells, as Crow’s launches forward, only to be pulled back by what looks like shadow arms, grasping and pulling him through the door. 

“Oh fuck, no, Joker!” is the last thing he hears before he opens his eyes, only to see the familiar ceiling of Leblanc. 

Akira groans and closes his eyes. He’s so exhausted, can feel real, true sleep beckoning as he turns over, faint lights from outside seeming soothing after the harshness of the nightmare. 

They’d been so close to kissing. Akira huffs to himself, grabbing his pillow. Kissing his soulmate in his nightmares. It is oddly romantic to him, despite Crow’s teasing. They’ve both been through a lot, for many years, Crow the only consistent anchor he’s ever had. Brutally honest, supportive and real in a way no one else is. 

It seems inevitable that Akira would fall for him. Which is exactly what’s happened, not that he can pinpoint the precise moment. Not that it even matters. What does matter though is that despite it all, Akira can’t reach him in reality. And it seems that even in nightmares it’s becoming harder. 

“How do I find you,” he murmurs, before closing his eyes and thinking no more. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Haru who turns to the final person at the table. “What about you, Akechi? If you don’t mind me asking,” she says carefully.
> 
> Akechi shakes his head. “Oh, no I don’t mind. I’ve met my soulmate,” he says. 
> 
> Haru and Ann gasp, Makoto’s hand flies to her mouth and Ryuji looks shocked. Akira’s heart does something that’s not a break but more than a bend. He struggles to breathe for a second, as Akechi somehow collapses a world he didn’t know he inhabited. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely responses to part one! I hope you like the conclusion. 
> 
> All the love again to MXTicketyBoo for betaing <3
> 
> Enjoy!

His mother calls just as Akechi walks through the door. He’s barely said hello when the bell rings, and he hastily waves while gripping the pay phone in his hand. 

“I have to go, there’s a customer,” he tries, but she’s having none of it. 

“I haven’t received your grade report. Did you fail all your classes? Is that why you haven’t sent it?” she says, completely ignoring the last statement. 

Akira grits his teeth, but Futaba chooses that moment to appear, wearing some sort of headdress that Akira can only see the back of, causing Akechi’s eyes to widen in what would be a comical way if he were not on this phone call. 

“No, I’m doing well. Our grades are posted up at school, I need to request an email report,” he says, and his mother sighs. 

“That’s hard to believe,” she says, and he isn’t sure what part she’s referring to. 

“My grades are fine, I have a job. All is fine,” he says, and glances at the side to see Futaba is waving her arms about and Akechi is looking ever more terrified. 

“Well you can see why we find this hard to believe, considering we have no word from you, and you’re on probation. We need to actually see evidence, Akira,” she says, and his grip on the wire of the pay phone goes taut, the plastic cutting into his fingers. 

“I don’t have to prove anything. You’d hear if I have a problem, it’s in the court order,” he snaps, really wishing he could just hang up, but knows it would make things worse. 

“You do need to prove yourself, I’m afraid. You cannot be trusted. You have a criminal record and it seems too perfect that you’ve turned yourself around in six months after all this time,” she says, and Akira feels his hands begin to shake, the  _ you cannot be trusted  _ echoing as if she’d screamed it. 

“What I meant is, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My grades are fine,” he says, and then slams the phone back on the receiver. 

He instantly regrets it. Even more so when the phone immediately starts ringing again, and he scrubs a hand across his eyes. He should have had more control, he knows he can’t get away with talking to them like that. Even if he is correct and there’s nothing she has the need to know when all is going well. 

“Let’s just stop this annoying noise,” says a voice next to him, and Akira looks up to see Akechi lift the receiver, hang up, and then place the phone off the hook. 

Akira snaps his gaze up, realising Futaba has taken the headdress off and placed it on the bar. 

“Your mum?” she asks, and Akira nods, feeling entirely ridiculous that she heard the conversation. And it pales in comparison to what he feels about Akechi hearing. 

“Hardly a way to talk to her son,” Akechi says, and Akira exhales as he too sits down, looking as frustrated as Akira feels. 

“Yeah well. I’m not her favourite person,” he says, the shakes still not subsiding, so he busies himself in making coffee that no one’s asked for. 

He ends up making two cups, and places Akechi’s in front of him. He hands Futaba a soda and she grins, before hopping off the stool. 

“You’re better off here, anyway. And no one with a brain thinks your criminal record is justified,” she adds, before heading off to her favourite booth, where Akira can now see her laptop hidden away. 

“And I must say, this coffee is delightful, so any question about your skills can be proven incorrect,” Akechi says, drawing his attention. 

Akira manages a small smile. “Thanks. But sorry you had to hear that,” he says, and Akechi puts down his cup, giving Akira a look he doesn’t recognise, automatically causing him to step closer, curious and pulled in. 

“Parents can be...hard. I understand that. Seems we can never be enough for them. No matter how hard we try,” he says, his tone lower and less measured than he usually is, which means he’s being honest. Akira can tell the difference by now from the perfect class president he is when he needs to be. 

“I can’t imagine you being anything other than something a parent is proud of,” Akira says. 

Akechi’s cup tips from his hands and crashes into the saucer, thankfully none of the remaining coffee spilling. Akira jumps, not expecting it, nor the shaky laugh that comes in its wake. 

“You’d be surprised,” he says, and the bitterness in his tone cuts straight through Akira’s soul, hurts in a way that he’s only felt once before for another. 

Akechi though, looks up quickly, then offers Akira a shaky smile. “Although I could say the same for you. Everything you do, you seem to excel at. I have been impressed by your school work, and every time I come here. You are...a good person,” he finishes. 

“A good person. That’s what I get,” he says, and Akechi raises his eyebrows. 

“Would you like me to sing your praises, Kurusu? Fishing for compliments?” he says, resting an elbow on the counter tipping his chin to the side as his voice lilts in the challenge-tease Akira knows so well. He’s just not sure when it started making his stomach swirl like it is now. 

“If you’re offering, go ahead,” he says, and Akechi smirks, sharp and dangerous. The swirling simply increases. 

“You’d need to actually impress me for that. Care to try your luck at a game?” Akechi asks, gesturing to where they’ve now started to keep the chess set. 

Akira thinks for a minute, then shakes his head. As much as he’d like to continue this, he knows his mind won’t cooperate enough to give Akechi a good run, and there’s really no point in him playing while he’s so distracted. 

Akechi’s face falls for a moment, before he nods in understanding. Akira is slightly touched that their games mean so much. 

“How about tomorrow?” he asks, and then looks away, hair falling artfully across his face in a way that almost hides a slight flush. Which gives Akira pause. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Akechi blush before. 

“I’m actually going to the arcade tomorrow. You should come with us though,” he says. 

“Us?” Akechi asks, looking up, all trace of any blush gone, leaving Akira wondering if it had just been his racing thoughts. 

“The gardening club. Plus maybe Futaba if she’s feeling like it. I’m pretty good at Gun About, if you want to try a different competition,” he says, suddenly imagining Akechi at the arcade and realising he can’t, but very much wants to see it happen. 

“I don’t know anything about arcade games,” Akechi admits, and Akira is a little surprised. Akechi is well liked, but then again, it’s more of a following than friendship. Akira realises he’s never seen Akechi with anyone at school; all the times they’ve interacted he’s always been alone. 

“Then you should definitely come. You taught me chess, it’s my turn to show you something,” he says. 

Akechi seems to be weighing it up, then nods slowly, taking a sip of his coffee with a small, true smile. 

“Refill?” Akira asks, feeling pleased with himself as Akechi nods. 

As he goes over to the coffee machine, he sees Futaba staring at him. She quickly gives him a double thumbs up sign, and it takes all his energy not to laugh. He can’t help but give her a secret thumbs up in return though. 

* * *

When Akechi said he didn’t know anything about arcade games, he actually meant he’s never been to an arcade. Which distracts Ryuji utterly from the fact that Goro Akechi is hanging out with them. 

“Never? Dude, you gotta try this game then,” he says, and Akechi sends Akira a look somewhere between a threat and a plea, so Akira just waves them off with a grin. 

“I think it’s so nice you invited him, Akira, we should spend more time together,” Haru says, and Makoto gives him a strained if true smile. He knows they often stand on the opposite sides of the fence in student council matters, but he gets the impression they partly enjoy that. 

“Sooo nice,” Ann says, then yanks on his arm towards the crane games. 

“I’ve been trying to win this one all month,” she says, and he shakes his head, fishing out coins from his pocket to give it a go. 

“You do realise it’s not a date if you just bring him along to group outings, right?” Ann says, just as he’s trying to insert the coin, causing it to slip. 

“I didn’t think it was a date,” he says, and Ann leans against the side of the machine with a judgemental expression. 

“Neither is playing chess when you should be working. Akira, just ask him out. He likes you,” she says. 

“Not the aim of this,” he says, then tips the coin into the machine and stands so they can end this conversation. 

Ann is quiet as he moves the controls, then grips his arms tightly as the fluffy llama is gripped in the metal claws, then shrieks in triumph when it’s released. He holds it out to her and her eyes widen. 

“You don’t have to-” 

“Haven’t you been wanting it all month?” he says, and she throws herself into a hug, before taking the plushie into her arms. 

Akira looks around, and sees a machine across the room offering a grumpy looking black cat plushie, and he’s gravitating towards it with a smile. Ann follows after then starts laughing as soon as he sees it. 

“Oh please don’t tell me you’re going to give it to him,” she says, and Akira doesn’t reply, just plays the game, winning the plushie, much to Ann’s amusement. 

“You’re way too good at these games,” she says, as he wins a third time, this one a character from a TV series Futaba knows, and snaps a picture before sending it to her, seeing as she’d decided to give today a miss. 

By the time they join the others, Ryuji is losing horribly to Makoto at a fighting game, Haru’s managed to win a huge bundle of tickets and Akechi looks somewhat out of his depth. Ann gives him a wink before heading over to rib Ryuji, while Akira slides up next to Akechi, and waves the cat at him. 

“What is that?” Akechi says, and Akira laughs a little at the pure confusion in his voice. 

“Arcade present, for you,” he says, and drops the cat which Akechi lunches to catch. 

He stares at it, almost as if entranced, and Akira’s nerves suddenly spike, and he wonders what’s possessed him over the past few minutes. He can’t deny now there is this bond between that feels like friendship with an edge, but he doesn’t have the vocabulary to explain exactly what it is and why the draw is so persistent. 

“Why?” Akechi asks, still looking at the cat, turning it over in his hands. It’s so quiet, Akira almost wonders if he knows he’s vocalised the thought. 

“Just...thought you’d like it,” Akira says, trying to put into words everything that comes to mind when Akechi is involved. 

Akechi looks up, hair parting perfect as he does, and once again for a second, Akira is hit by a sense of deja-vu, and knowing that’s beyond what his mind wants to hold in this moment, something vast and looming. But it vanishes as Akechi sighs and shakes his head. 

“Are we not too old for toys, Kurusu,” he says in a tone that makes Akira’s smile grow. 

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” he says, glancing at Ann who is still clutching the pink llama while she watches in awe at Haru’s increasing combo score on the taiko machine. 

He turns back to Akechi and tips his head towards Gun About. “Come on, let me show you,” he says, and Akechi nods, following, but not before carefully placing the cat on his case, balancing it so it has no chance of falling. 

Despite Akira having to walk him through each of the controls, Akechi wins two rounds of Gun About before Ann and Ryuji sneak up to watch, both calling out ‘helpful’ tips, and cheering loudly when Akechi wins yet again. 

“Well that was quite the match,” he says, a little breathless, turning to Akira with his cheeks stained red. 

Akira blinks at the sight, but doesn’t get to look for long as Akechi bends down to pick up the prize which has been ejected from the bottom of the game. He holds the stretchy red and black friendship bracelet with complete disdain before turning around and smirking at Akira. 

“My...arcade gift to you. As a memory of our battle,” he says, holding it out to Akira, who takes it, spinning it onto his wrist without thought. Akechi looks triumphant, but also giddy, still flushed from the game and possibly the absurdity of this conversation 

Akira’s never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. Well, almost never. Never when awake. 

The realisation has him so stunned he doesn’t realise the others are talking, until Akechi puts a hand on his shoulder. He jumps, and Akechi immediately flinches back in return. 

“S-sorry, I just lost myself there,” he says, actually surprised by Akechi’s reaction. 

“No problem. Apparently it’s time for burgers,” he says, and Akira hums, stepping down and grabbing his bag, realising just how hungry he is. 

Big Bang burger isn’t far, and Haru insists on treating them all, so she and Makoto line up while the others make their way to a table. 

“How was your first arcade experience? You picked up Gun About pretty quickly,” Akira says, and Akechi smiles, and Ann and Ryuji bicker near the condiments, of all things. 

“It’s been...interesting. Reminds me of a video game one of the-someone had when I was young. I played it a few times. Always wanted to be the hero,” he says, with a sadness Akira doesn’t quite understand. 

“Doesn’t every kid? But I guess it suits you,” he says, with a small laugh. 

“Me? On the contrary, I’d say you’d be more suited for the role,” Akechi says, sitting forward slightly. 

“I am?” he says, and Akechi nods once. 

“There’s something rather noble about you, Kurusu. You always seem to care about things over your own needs. Always listening, always surrounded by genuine people who care in return. Very heroic, straight out of a story,” he says, with a bit of a tease and flash of his eyes. 

Akira’s mouth runs dry, strangely caught up in the way Akechi forms the word ‘heroic’ and fires it back at him. But he shakes his head. 

“You’re pretty much the definition of a fairy-tale prince. Composed, clever, the best of the best, the hair-”

“The hair,” Akechi says, running his hand through it and just proving Akira correct, so much so it makes him laugh loudly. 

Akechi’s smile does wane though, an undercurrent of tension breaking through the teasing. Akira inhales once and tries again. 

“For someone who just admitted they used to play hero, you don’t seem happy to give me those qualities,” Akira says. 

Akechi’s perfect smile falls a little, and that melancholy expression of yesterday returns. “Well, I may have just outgrown those notions,” he says. 

Akira pauses, thinking. “I try to help I guess, mostly just from being so alone, for a long time. Not really that noble, it’s not selfless really to see yourself in others and try to erase that, simply so it doesn’t remind you of the past,” he says. 

Akechi’s staring at him, eyes widening every second. Akira doesn’t normally talk for this long, but he’s found now that maybe on this, he wants to. 

“Plus, helping someone got me put on probation. I don’t regret it, but I’m not selfless enough that it doesn’t hurt, that it didn’t suck being sent here at first. It felt like I was locked up, until I found these guys. So, I don’t think I’m a hero, but there’s nothing wrong in keeping those ideals. In trying to do what’s right, being true to yourself. In trying to see some good in things,” he says.

Silence rings between them, despite the chatter from the busy restaurant. Akechi is still just staring at him, and Akira doesn’t really know why he decided to almost give a lecture at this point. Akechi is the one with long pronouncements, not him. He can’t explain where this has all come from so suddenly. Nor, what Akechi is thinking. 

He’s saved by a tray being slammed in front of him, and Ryuji slides into the seat next to him. 

“Here you go, man. At least you don’t have to eat it on a timer,” he says, and Akira is so grateful for the distraction he doesn’t mind the rest of them questioning in horror about the time he won the Big Bang Burger challenge on a dare from Ryuji. 

“I’m so impressed by your teamwork on the racing game,” Ann says to Makoto and Haru, who exchange smiles. 

“Thank you. It’s a soulmate thing,” Haru says. 

“No, it’s not, it’s because we practice,” Makoto says, as the rest of the table just stares at them. 

“Wait, you’re soulmates? How did I not know!” Ann yells, and Makoto looks around at the volume, while Haru just smiles, taking up Makoto’s hand. 

“Oh, we’ve known for over a year, I suppose we just don’t announce it,” she says, and Akira finds his mind clicking back to the small interactions between the two and smiles to himself. 

“That’s so sweet. I can’t even remember my dreams. I know I have them, but it’s just a feeling when I wake up. It sucks, I have no idea when I’ll find her,” Ann says, playing with her straw, mood vanished. 

“You will, I’m sure. It just happens unexpectedly,” Makoto says, and Ann sighs. 

“Shiho says that too,” she says, thinking of her best friend who lives abroad, usually a tough topic, but today looks a little comforted by it. 

“Mine’s an artist,” Ryuji announces. 

“Really now,” Akechi says, and Ann starts laughing and Akira has to close his eyes for a moment to stop himself from doing the same. 

“Hey, quit laughing! My dreams are full of weird colours and shit, all...artsy. Definitely some hot artist in my future,” he says, and there’s a hint of pride in his voice that makes all of them smile. 

Their eyes swivel to him, and he looks between them all, knowing there’s really no pressure. But it’s the first time anyone’s ever mentioned soulmates to him since he was a child, the first time he’s ever felt vaguely comfortable expressing the notion. 

First time anyone’s ever cared to wonder. 

“I know quite a lot about mine. Still not enough to find him though,” he says. 

“What’s a lot? I just see weird art stuff, I don’t know anything other than what I guess. And she’s just assuming anything,” Ryuji says, pointing to Ann who glares back. 

“About who they are. But it’s generic enough that it could mean anything, we’ve talked but we can’t give out names or locations. We’ve tried. And he’s always wearing a mask, so I don’t know what he looks like,” Akira says. 

They’re all staring at him though, and it makes him sit back a little in his chair. 

“Akira, that’s...pretty unusual. Haru and I didn’t even see one another in the dream world, it was the setting that clued us in,” Makoto says slowly. 

Akira shrugs, a little uncomfortable now. The whole nightmares instead of dreams situation is something he isn’t really okay with telling everyone, and most of the information he knows of Crow comes from knowing of his past and their shared terror. It’s theirs and theirs alone. 

“I’ll find them though,” he says, surprised even at the firmness in his voice, and Ryuji grins. 

“Hell yeah, man! That’s the attitude,” he says, and offers his hands for a fist bump.

It’s Haru who turns to the final person at the table. “What about you, Akechi? If you don’t mind me asking,” she says carefully.

Akechi shakes his head. “Oh, no I don’t mind. I’ve met mine,” he says. 

Haru and Ann gasp, Makoto’s hand flies to her mouth and Ryuji looks shocked. Akira’s heart does something that’s not a break but more than a bend. He struggles to breathe for a second, as Akechi somehow collapses a world he didn’t know he inhabited. 

“Yes. At least, I assume so. With how these things work, it’s a little hard to tell. I’m sorry, I don’t want to say anything more though,” he says, as Ann and Makoto both look as if they’re about to ask more questions. 

“Damn. Well, that’s awesome man, I hope it goes well,” Ryuji says, and it’s clear to Akira that Akechi is not expecting such wholesome support from him. 

They part ways soon after, and Akira thinks on his reaction to finding out Akechi knows his soulmate the whole journey home. He’s not so dense that he doesn’t recognise his own sadness, especially after knowing just how much he’d wanted to kiss him at the arcade. 

He likes him. A lot. Wants to know the parts he doesn’t show the world, wants to confirm all the things he thinks he knows about him. Yet he already has a person whom he knows, through the worst parts of his life, in Crow. It’s not the same connection nor the same relationship but they're both important in equal measure. 

It’s confusing, and difficult. So much so that by the time he makes it home, all he wants to do is sleep. Whether to actually sleep or to talk to Crow, he doesn’t know. But it seems fate, or his mind has chosen for him, as when he next returns to sensation, he’s standing in a dreamscape of pure white. 

He looks around. His footsteps echo as he moves, nothing changing or spinning. He just walks endlessly onwards, no walls or barriers to stop him, the stark brightness carrying on and on. 

“Is this my fear, or yours?” he calls out, his voice strangely muffled as it tries to echo, failing miserably. 

That makes his nerves rise. It’s not worrying in itself, which makes him think this might be Crow’s fear, as he can’t work out what it is. But it’s unnerving, this solid emptiness that is suffocating despite its vastness. 

Akira tries walking in different directions, running, and turning in all the twisted directions he can think of. But nothing changes, he could have stood still for all it-

“Ah. This is futile. And...lonely,” he says, suddenly, and his voice seems to contain a sharpness that his previous question did not, especially since now he has an answer. 

This is his fear. The fear that no matter what he does, it will never change anything. Never make a difference, or impact anything at all. He’s run in circles, chases an ending and still winds up in the same place he started; alone, unheard and unseen. He gulps, a sudden chill shaking his shoulder, and he finds himself sitting down before he’s even registered it. 

What if this is how his probation ends? What if this is how life goes, that he becomes an utterly useless adult, like all the ones in his life? Akira doesn't need to change the world, or become the hero of an epic tale. He just needs to know that he matters, even if that’s to a few people. That his presence, no matter how short in this world, meant something. 

“Crow? Are you here?” he asks, tentatively reaching out. 

There’s no reply. Of course there’s not, that would be too perfect. Akira squeezes his eyes shut once, trying to see if he can will himself to where Crow is, but he opens them to starkness. He inhales, shaking a little. This isn’t like before, nothing is coming, but he can still feel the terror eating away at him. 

_ “There’s something rather noble about you, Kurusu.” _

Akechi’s words float back to him without warning. He smiles to himself a little, recalling their stilted conversation just hours before. When he’d been dubbed a hero by his crush, who doesn’t even like heroes, and Akira himself had decided he wasn’t one in the first place. 

But. 

“If there’s ever a time to be a hero, I guess it’s now,” he says to himself. 

It takes him a while to stand up, his body seeming almost crushed by the weight of this nightmare, a feeling he knows well. But once he’s standing, it all lightens, suddenly easier to breathe with the sudden breakthrough. The same happens when he starts walking, at first having to drag his feet, but before long, he’s running again. 

Because of all this, he can get through. He’s done it already. Of course it would be his nightmare, one of his worst most persistent fears. The trouble is, it’s a background concern. Akira has always had something more immediate to worry about, while the undercurrent of loneliness, the wonder if there’s any point in trying when he’s already been written off by so many people. 

But that’s changed. So many years have cemented that thought, but slowly, since he moved to Tokyo, he’s made friends, has people who genuinely care. He’s not so lonely anymore, and even though the persistent thoughts are still there, he isn’t pulled down by it day by day. There’s a meaning to his life, even if it’s small things: mastering pouring technique and planning a trip to the beach. These only grow into bigger aims and goals, he can feel them forming just outside of his reach. 

And through it all, no matter how lonely or how pointless everything felt, he had Crow. His soulmate, a person who dragged him forward when he didn’t want to, saw his fears and did not run, who remained steady and by his side for a decade. Who, as he mentioned earlier today, Akira is going to find no matter what, in this current nightmare and in the real world. 

Which would normally seem futile, has at many times seemed so, but tonight, Akira is done being told what is achievable and what is not, and maybe that makes him delusional. But if his friends can find one another, then there’s no reason why he and Crow can’t find each other too. 

_ “Very heroic, straight out of a story,”  _ Akechi says in his head, and this time Akira wholeheartedly agrees as he runs forward and clings to that idea, remembering the way Akechi had described him, the look on his face-

Akira has just enough time to think red as the blur of colour lights up the otherwise white world, and then he’s slammed into something solid headfirst and falls back. Or at least he would if someone didn’t curse loudly, then grab onto his arms before he can. Akira closes his eyes for a second, hissing in pain that radiates from his nose and forehead. 

It takes them both a second to not fall, despite Akira being grabbed, and he opens his watering eyes smiling, knowing exactly who will be standing there. He’s not disappointed when Crow’s annoyed, but still clearly concerned expression forms before him. 

“Is running around like that really helping?” he snaps, and Akira doesn’t say anything, just breaks from Crow’s grip long enough to tip forward and hug him. 

Crow reacts almost exactly how he imagined he would; freezing for a moment then almost collapsing in on the hug, gripping Akira tightly. Akira’s almost tempted to close his eyes again, but instead just pulls back enough to be heard when speaking. 

“I knew I’d find you,” he says, and feels Crow vibrate slightly as he laughs. 

“Yes, you are determined on that point,” he says, before fully breaking away from Akira’s hold, although it seems reluctant, the space left between them barely an inch even without touching. 

“It seems unfair once again you’re in my head,” he says, and Akira frowns. 

“No, I’m pretty sure this is my nightmare,” he says, and Crow shakes his head. 

“Impossible, I know my own mind,” he says. 

They both look at each other and Akira feels his mouth tip upwards, even if there’s nothing light about this. 

“So, you feel like this too,” he says quietly, and Crow’s shoulders fall, head turning away. 

“It seems so impossible that you…” he trails off and Akira shakes his head. 

“You saw my parents, my prison cell nightmare. Until recently, nothing ever really felt like it had a point,” he says, as Crow turns back to face him. 

“I suppose it’s quite obvious I’ve never had anyone,” he says, voice hollow, and Akira closes the insignificant distance between them to take up Crow’s hand. 

“You’ve always had me,” he says, and Crow looks at their joint hands then up to Akira with a frustrated sigh. 

“How do you always say such things? But I suppose it is true. You too, have always had me,” he says, and Akira grins. 

“So you do like bad boys,” he says, and unlike before, Crow does not stutter but smiles with teeth in a way that makes him shiver. 

“Do you think you qualify?” he says, and Akira feels his pulse pick up, this to and fro which he can slip into naturally. 

“Not sure, but you could find out,” he says, and Crow gives him an appraising look. 

“I could. Tell me, do you plan on following through with what happened in our last nightmare?” he says, and Akira is now the one tripping, gleeful all the same. 

“Is that an invitation to kiss you?” he asks, and Crow makes a frustrated sound. 

“For fuck’s sake, Joker, come here,” he says, and grabs hold of him by whatever he’s wearing that apparently has a collar.

“Your mask is in the way,” Akira says, feeling ridiculous, but that thing is dangerous, he’s amazed he didn’t lose an eye when they collided. 

“My...Well, it can come off, although I can’t feel it,” Crow says and his grip loosens a bit, a hint of nerves perhaps. 

But Akira can take over, is more than happy to, firstly raising a hand and just resting it on the side of Crow’s face. He leans into the touch, and Akira finds himself inhaling as he brings up a second hand and gently pulls off Crow’s mask. 

His eyes widen. Crow smiles. Except it’s not Crow, or more accurately, Crow is-

_ “You, _ ” Akira whispers in clear realisation and joy, throwing himself forward. But there’s nothing there, just the vastness of white, Akira spinning out of control before he even has time to think. 

And he hits the floor, shoulder jarring painfully, and realising by the slightly dusty air, he’s just fallen out of bed. 

“Shit,” he says, or more accurately yells as he spins over, the sound of pounding feet echoing. 

“Akira, are you alright?” Futaba yells as she comes into view. 

“No,” he answers, but when she looks truly concerned, he waves her away. 

“I’m not hurt, I’m just...annoyed,” he says, deciding that he’s not going to get up off the floor for now. 

He looks to the side, sees it’s thirty minutes before his alarm is set to go off, so he turns and looks at Futaba, who is now crouched by his side. 

“Why are you here so early?” he asks. 

“I was hungry. So. Bad dream?” she says, and Akira grudgingly gets off the floor, sitting by her side against the bed, rubbing his shoulder as he goes. 

“No, actually. Well, sort of,” he says, and she continues looking at him, so he smiles, and leans against her shoulder for a second. 

“Saw my soulmate. Actually saw them, who they are and...I can’t remember because I woke up,” he says and leans his head back in frustration. 

So close. So damn close to actually kissing Crow and seeing who he is. But of course as soon as he wakes up he loses all recollection of the details, leading him back to square one. 

“Wow, that’s pretty bad. I can see why that would suck. Can you remember anything else?” she asks, and Akira grimaces. 

“I remember all of it, up until the part where I took off his mask and saw him. But I always do, there’s nothing new,” he says, repeating the conversation to himself, hoping he’s not forgetting anything they said. 

He sits up, jostling Futaba, who mutters but leans forward with him as he pieces together a few snippets of conversation he’d just filed away in place of touch and confession. 

“I think...he knows who I am,” he says. 

“What? Okay, that’s pretty big,” she says, both turning so they’re facing one another. 

It does make a little sense. Crow’s wondering that he could feel the same loneliness could just be from his nightmares, but he’s never hidden any of that in his dreams, while in real life Akira knows he buries his feelings deep. It’s a small thing, but the second point of Crow stating he always ‘says such things’ means he’s heard Akira speak a lot. 

Maybe he’s grasping, but it feels right. And with this type of thing, you have to go on a little faith. 

“Hmm, what about you? You said you saw him but can’t remember. Did you recognise him?” Futaba asks. 

Strangely, that does chime with Akira’s mind even though he again cannot be sure. But there’s no mystery in his mind, no wondering. Just the frustration he can’t remember. 

“Maybe. Which means, we know each other,” he says, and Futaba’s leaning forward now, excitement clear. 

“Well that narrows it down! It’s gotta be someone you know, who knows you well enough to recognise you. You can work this out, just think...who fits what you know about them?” she says, and Akira’s catching up with her excitement, starting to list things he knows. 

Loneliness. Orphaned, or at least was for most of their childhood. Hides behind a mask, just like he does, terrible father, high expectations created by others and a deep hatred of those who unjustly use their power, competitive, bad at math-

Wait. 

It couldn’t be. It would be too perfect, too much of Akira wanting it to be true. But, the more he thinks on it, the more snatches of conversation return. The constant competitiveness, the math score line, his words when Akira’s mother called, and most recently, stating he knows who his soulmate is. During the same conversation when Akira declared he’d find his own. 

_ “I knew I’d find you.” _

_ “Yes, you are determined on that point.” _

“Akechi. I’m pretty sure, it’s Akechi,” Akira says, trying the words out loud and just managing not to giggle hysterically. 

“The pretty one? Oh that makes so much sense, that’s why he’s always here,” she says, and Akira does laugh a little at that, letting lose some of that energy. 

“Soo...why are you still sitting here?” Futaba says, nudging him with her elbow. 

An excellent question, actually. So Akira jumps up, and Futaba whoops and skips down the stairs as he frantically starts getting ready for school. 

* * *

Somehow, despite the fact he woke up early, between the realisation and actually leaving, Akira is not that early for school. How time managed to evaporate and work against him he doesn’t know, but he runs into school with only ten minutes before homeroom. 

Thankfully, he almost runs into Makoto, who is carrying tomato plants, and looks shocked as he marches over. 

“Have you seen Akechi?” he says, panting a little. 

“Um, he’s actually up on the roof, Haru needed some help with an early delivery. Are you okay?” she says. 

“Oh, I will be. Let’s go,” he says, taking one of the plants and running to the backstairs. 

“Akira, do not run in the hallway, what’s going on,” Makoto calls, catching up with him easily, as he bangs through the door and starts running up the stairs. 

“Need to...talk to him,” he says as he jumps up them two by two. 

“This badly?” Makoto says, and the fact she’s barely out of breath while he’s running with all his might says a lot about his fitness, but that’s a problem for later. 

“Yes,” he says, and thankfully she doesn’t question it further, just continues to run with him until he eventually makes it to the roof, and practically runs into the door, it flying open as he steps through. 

“Um good morning?” Ann says, from where she’s tending the plants, looking shocked at his entrance, and Akira sweeps his eyes across the people present, noticing all his friends are looking back at him in surprise. 

And Akechi is, as promised there, next to Haru, and that is enough information for him right now. So he strides forward, vaguely hearing Makoto and Ryuji’s voices rise up behind him, and stops by Haru. 

“Tomato plant,” he says, handing it over, and she takes it with a small smile. 

“Thank you, Akira,” she says, and he nods. 

“No problem,” he says.

Then turns away, barely has to look, seeing as he’s done these motions before. Takes one step, raises both his hands to Akechi’s face and draws forward to kiss him. 

Haru gasps, and possibly drops the plant, he’s not sure. Someone else who he’s sure is Ann yells, but that’s all his mind can process before it shuts down completely as Akechi kisses him back. 

It’s so much better than an end of a nightmare because this is real. No masks, no code names, just the way Akechi kisses back too hard with slightly chapped lips, the way neither can keep up with the other because this is too new to be practiced and too good to slow down. Akira’s hands move from Akechi’s face down to loop around his shoulders, while Akechi in turn pulls him closer by the waist, and every touch point is fire on ignition, everything and not enough, so much Akira doesn’t know how to stop or if he ever wants to. 

The question is answered though when the bell rings and both automatically part, Akira suddenly realising he actually desperately needs air. 

“Ahem. Well, I’ll cover for you, Akira. Have a great day!” Ann yells, and he turns to see her waving, pulling Ryuji along who gives him a thumbs up sign. 

“I’ll say you weren’t feeling well, Akechi,” Makoto adds, giving them both a look. 

“I’m so happy for you!” Haru adds, clapping her hands together then slipping one into Makoto’s as they head back down to class. 

Akira inhales as they disappear, then turns back to face Akechi, who is still lightly hanging onto his waist. 

“Hey...Crow,” he says, and Akechi rolls his eyes. 

“Better than Joker,” he says, and the way his tongue curls around the world makes Akira’s insides fizzle. 

He does however, lift up a hand once more to cup Akechi’s face, who leans into it, cheeks colouring. 

“Sorry it took me a while. But I did find you,” he adds. 

Akechi chuckles, and Akira instantly has to ask. “When did you know?” he says. 

Akechi looks back at him, gaze unwavering, before he exhales. “After the theatre dream, I had my suspicions. But after the phone call in Leblanc, I was almost certain,” he says, and Akira nods, closing his eyes, leaning forward a little to rest his forehead against his neck. 

He curls in, Akechi’s scent already comforting, as his arm tightens around his waist. 

“Thank you, for that,” he says, voice muffled, but he knows Akechi hears it. He pushes down those thoughts, focusing on the good not the bad now, and lifts his head, offering Akechi a smile. 

“And yet you didn’t think of saying anything,” he cannot help but tease, seeing as he’d only done so when he was almost 100% sure, but Akechi’s smile wavers. 

Akechi blinks once, eyes flicking to where his arm is around Akira. “There’s things you still don’t know. Even if you know more of me than anyone,” he says. 

Akira finds himself smiling, truly as he leans forward and kisses him once, soft and fleeting, Akechi’s eyes still half shut when he pulls back. 

“There’s no pressure to tell me it all now. We have time. But I’m pretty sure, no matter what it is, it won’t change my mind about you,” he says. 

Akechi nods slowly, still clearly wondering if it will be as okay as he says it is. But they have time enough for Akira to show him. 

“You don’t know everything about me either,” he adds, hoping it would help level the ground. 

“No. But I would like to, Kurusu. To know as much as you want to share,” he says, and Akira thinks it’s unfair that he can be knocked so breathless by simple words. 

“Akira. You should call me Akira,” he adds. 

Akechi coughs, but smiles and lets go enough to take Akira’s hand, and starts leading them to the exit. 

“Only if you call me Goro. I didn’t have breakfast, so if it works for you, we could get something to eat,” he says, and Akira nods, still revelling in being given the option to call him by his first name, and to walk with his soulmate hand in hand. 

A thought occurs as they step out into the stairway. 

“Is skipping school for a breakfast date enough to fulfil your bad boy fantasies?” he says, and is rewarded with Goro almost tripping down the first step. 

“No, try harder, Akira,” he snaps, and Akira grins to himself. 

Oh, he most certainly will. He has so much time to make up for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me about shuake and P5 on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 coming early next week. 
> 
> In the meantime, find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)


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